Last Call

I smiled at the bartender as she slid the large glass of vodka my way.

“These are my baby sisters.”

I had just arrived at the little party in the hotel lounge, and I was attempting to ingratiate myself to the bartender. She wasn’t having it.

“Lucky you.” She sneered back at me.

The wedding had been wonderful. There was plenty of liquor, food, and fun, but at around ten in the evening Mark and I were pooped, so we returned to our hotel and went to bed. At midnight the phone rang.

“Where the hell are you? We’re all down stairs at the bar. Get your ass down here.”

I knew better than to argue with my youngest sister. If I had just rolled over in bed and ignored her, she would have been pounding at the door of our room within minutes. So that is how I found myself sitting at a hotel bar after midnight, with a couple of my sisters and numerous nephews and nieces. In front of me was an assembly line of vodka. Halfway through one, another would show up. One after another until finally the lights slowly came up, and the bartender shoved a plastic cup of vodka in front of me.

“This one is in a to go cup. Get it? To go! The bar is closed.”

And so it was according to the security guard the hotel had sent to usher us out.

“There’s another lounge on the second floor.” We were informed. So we took our party on up there for the next fifteen minutes until the lights again brightened. I looked around, and saw our old friend the security guard.

“You all have to leave, now!” He informed us.

I know my sisters can be loud, but they’re harmless. And I’d like to say, I’ve been kicked out of better places. But I haven’t. That very fancy hotel lounge was the nicest place yet that I’ve been told to leave.